Welcome to Hogwarts
by flyingpiggies
Summary: Beast Boy is enslaved as a house elf and Raven takes the Defense Against the Dark Arts job to buy him out. Yet with a relatively attractive teacher the same age as the students, there is bound to be trouble.
1. Beginnings

AN: Purely experimental and written on whim by my silly plotbunnies. Anyways, kindly disregard the sixth volume of HP as Snape teaching the Defense Against the Dark Arts would seriously maim my semi-existent plotline. Give feed back please and if it is completely horrible, I'll delete it. Lots of love, as always, in the form of chocolate.

Love to ChocolateCurlz and read her fantabulous stories!

Harry Potter, the boy who lived, was not particularly thrilled at the moment. Ron and Hermione were arguing again over another trifling subject. Most likely Ron forgot wizards couldn't Apparate within Hogwarts grounds, insulted SPEW, or did something else of equal offense. Anyways, it certainly meant Harry would have to take sides. He could already foresee the yelling in his near future and he most definitely didn't need Professor Trelawney to tell him that.

"Blimey Harry, can you believe her? She's gone mad, talking about house elves again." Ron gestured crazily, flabbergasted that Hermione hadn't gone blue yet. Apparently, her passionate speech came before oxygen and proper breathing.

Harry groaned as the bickering duo made their way to the Gryffindor table. And so another quarrel marked the beginning of a new school year. On top of worrying about Voldemort's latest scheme, which most likely involved tearing his head off or some other form of a nasty torturous death, Harry had to save Ron from Hermione. He pushed his messy hair from his eyes, "Honestly, Ron. Did you have to set her off?"

"Well she started it, asking the suit of armor if any house elves had polished his helmet." The red-haired boy mumbled, rolling his eyes. "You think she'd be off the subject by now. What? Isn't Vicky enough to take your mind off of SPEW?"

"I told you, don't call him Vicky." His other best friend blushed furiously as she sat down. Glaring, she replied hotly, "And what do you mean set me off? I happen to think—"

"Erm—hey, where's the new Defense Against the arts teacher? Reckon they forgot about the feast?" Harry quickly changed to a less hazardous topic, commenting on the empty seat placed between Professors Snape and Flitwick. But such thoughts were justified seeing how the past professors were either working for You-Know-Who, clueless about teaching, sent by the Ministry of Magic, or simply not human.

"Dunno. Who is it anyways? Bit of a secret it seems." Ron poked at his plate, his mouth full as food appeared on their plates. "Anyone's better than Umbridge I suppose, the old hag. Here Harry, try the potatoes."

"Whoever it is, they must be very good. I heard Professor Dumbledore recommended them himself." Hermione chewed vigorously, "You know, I was making some adjustments to my schedule and overheard Professor Sprout and McGonagall. They stopped when they saw me, of course, but I think they were talking about Defense Against the Dark Arts. Professor McGonagall didn't seem too thrilled about the new teacher though, I wonder why."

Harry shrugged, his gaze drifting over to the teacher's table. Their Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor went unmentioned by Dumbledore. In fact, if he didn't know better, he would say the headmaster was avoiding the subject entirely. Something tugged at his brain, but he ignored it, temporarily clearing his mind of all worries to enjoy the potatoes Ron recommended. After all, they'd find out in time who the new teacher was, hopefully it wasn't anyone too terrible . . .

It all began when Beast Boy declared he'd oust any challengers in another one of his mundane video games. Silly thing to do really, considering how Cyborg could easily have kicked his butt. But no, he had to get his butt kicked by some weirdo called, of all things, Spuf the Angry House Elf. Raven frowned, thinking of all the stupid things Beast Boy just had to go and do.

Really, because losing to a house elf had consequences, especially an Angry one. How a creature got its hands on a Muggle game station, Raven had no clue. Anyways, this Spuf or Spurf demanded a ridiculously large sum of foreign currency, Galleons it seemed, and Beast Boy having even never heard of the thing—because really, he tried to give the elf a gallon of tofu—had only one choice: enslavement.

It was quite simple really, work at Hogwarts in Spuf's place so he could finally get that dream vacation he so wanted. Having chanced upon house elves in her reading, Raven was extremely perplexed. Weren't they supposed to detest vacations and love chores? At any rate, Hogwarts had thousands and thousands of house elves and the Titans had one Beast Boy.

The choice was clear, she being the magical one, would have to go and retrieve their teammate. Raven scowled, as an adamant Spuf had persisted. He would vacation until Beast Boy managed to accumulate enough money. Of course, it wasn't Beast Boy making the wizard money, oh no. He had been busy in the kitchens preparing for the opening feast. No, instead it was poor Raven who had to make ends meet.

At least there was a job opening at Hogwarts so she could keep an eye on Beast Boy. What was it again? Oh yes, something about needing a teacher to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts? Thankfully she knew enough about the topic to get hired. Dumbledore was kind enough once he understood the special circumstances about Beast Boy and such. The transfiguration teacher, Professor McGonagall had been reluctant, though.

But what sensible person wouldn't be reluctant, knowing that the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher was younger than some of the students and a half-demon? Raven sighed, what was she doing, dressed in some absurd robes that only a half-wit would wear about to impersonate a witch? She mentally cursed the dreaded house elf, hoping the teacher's salary was high enough that she wouldn't be hanging around for long.

Honestly, the people here couldn't even cast a spell without waving their silly pieces of wood around. Raven fingered the wand in her left pocket. Not that she needed the contraption, no, after all it was part of her costume along with the hated clothing. Really, she had no idea how humans cast magic. But if all else failed, she could always perform the spell with her own magic and hope no one noticed.

Raven cleared her throat, neatly tucking her books under her arm as ventured into her first class. She anxiously gripped her useless wand, wringing a handful of her bulky robes. Beast Boy was going to owe her for the rest of his life, no scratch that, the entire team was going to be eternally indebted to her. Raven looked at her schedule, a double class, Slytherin and Gryffindor. Great, she thought grimly, Here we go . . .

Harry Potter shared a desk with Ron, his fingers drumming absently on his newly acquired books. So far the day had idly passed by, with an hour of Herbology and History of Magic. He ignored his rapidly piling stack of homework, focusing on the classroom door. Twenty minutes into Defense Against the Dark Arts and the teacher had still not arrived. Harry was beginning to wonder whether this was Dumbledore's idea of a joke.

A few tables away, Hermione had already begun her history essay, filling the parchment with her neatly flowing script. Ron had his arms under his head, dozing off over a turned page in his Herbology book. Harry sighed, his mind drifting slowly when the soft clicking of heels drew his attention. The door swung open and in came their new professor. Harry nudged Ron sharply with his elbow, who jolted awake mumbling wildly, "What? Where's the troll?"

The entire class seemed to turn their heads at once as their professor entered. Hermione frowned slightly, her mouth falling open in surprise as the young witch tossed her things aside gracelessly, standing with her back to them as if contemplating, before facing them to reveal a pair of dark blue eyes. She certainly wasn't what she had expected, with her purple hair and strange red stone centered on her pale forehead, so pale that she looked positively gray.

"You're late, Professor." Draco Malfoy drawled lazily, his eyes examining the feminine figure of the new teacher. He lounged in the back of the classroom with in stealthy, catlike style of a predator, his lip curling into a sneer.

"Your school is quite difficult to navigate." The petite woman stated simply, summoning her book as her fingertips skimmed over the magical pages. She offered no other explanations for her lateness or strange appearance nor did she give any indication of her name.

Harry found himself certainly intrigued by the mysterious professor, whose pale face starkly contrasted with her dark azure eyes. She looked terribly out of place, even at Hogwarts, because for one thing, she looked to be around his age. "Excuse me, Professor, but what exactly is your name?"

"Raven." She replied simply. "You may address me as Raven."


	2. The Second Week

AN: This chapter is utterly dedicated and devoted to C.C., Queen of the Glittering Tiaras.

Disclaimer: Teen Titans and Harry Potter are on my wish list. Maybe if I'm really good, I'll get them for Christmas. . . You know, Bestest Chocolate Buddy, I also always wanted a pink tiara myself wink. . .

_The second week. . ._

By the second week, a certain newly made house-elf was permanently fixated to the kitchen, tending to cooking meals all day. Unfortunately, this limited his ability to talk to Raven and they met only once a month behind the statue of Gwendolyn the Airy.

More importantly, by the second week, it was apparent the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher had taken Hogwarts by storm. Although most students openly labeled her as undeniably creepy, the boys collectively agreed she possessed an unusual loveliness, perhaps a dark exotic beauty, as Blaise Zabini deemed her. Meanwhile, a number of second-year girls began sporting navy cloaks and the seventh-year girls had suspiciously purple-charmed hair.

She became the topic of numerous conversations, whether it was the expansive amount of knowledge she had or the way she dressed in robes resembling McGonagall knockoffs. A rumor was even circulated that she was Dracula's descendent, seeing as how she made Snape look tan. All seemed to secretly be admiring or envious of her, all except for Hermione, that is. For despite how others felt about her looks or skills, Hermione couldn't get rid of the nagging suspicion that Raven was not what she seemed.

"I don't know, there's just something odd about her. Something doesn't quite feel right. Did you see the way she cast the Precedormicus Charm?" Hermione said as she, Ron and Harry made their way towards the doors of the entrance hall. "For one thing she didn't wave her arms at the right moment and it shouldn't have worked. And she's much too young to be a fully trained Professor. It takes years before the ministry deems a wizard eligible."

"Come off it Hermione. You're just jealous she's a bigger brain than you are." Harry replied absentmindedly, surveying the grounds with students leisurely relaxing beside the lake. For once, it seemed they had a perfect day ahead of them and he intended to enjoy the afternoon outside. "Excellent day for Quidditch, right Ron?"

"Yeah, I bet you she finished her schooling ages ago," added Ron somewhat coherently as the trio headed for a grassy spot near the lake. Ever since Hermione's suspicions had been dominating their conversation for nearly a week, he and Harry resorted to tuning her out and occasionally offering comments. "How old do you think she was when she got her training?"

"That's not it! I'm telling you, she's hiding something, something about her past maybe. It's strange, I've searched the library for days but not one book or record even mentioned her." Hermione frowned vaguely, furrowing her brow into a severe line slightly, as she swept Harry a questioning glance. "What do you think?"

Harry shrugged, yawning, "Well she's relatively young so there wouldn't be a lot of books about her. Besides, what if she didn't attend Hogwarts?"

"Maybe, you could be right, you know." The brown-haired girl responded though Harry heard the undercurrent of dissatisfaction, a sign of skepticism in her voice. She countered, turning towards her other friend. "And how do you explain the Precedormicus Charm?"

"So? Maybe you blinked and missed it," Ron rolled his eyes, turning towards the Quidditch stadium where a number of Hufflepuffs were practicing. "Can't you just be glad there's no work for once? Besides you've talked about this all week!"

"I absolutely did not blink and miss it!" She retorted hotly, lowering her voice carefully as she spoke in hushed indignant tones when she realized Harry and Ron were uninterested. "Why can neither of you take this seriously? Have you even considered the possibility that she might be employed by You-Know-Who? She could be trying to kill Harry!"

"But that's just what you think," Ron returned, flushing red. "And if you think that I don't care—"

"Well, at least I can think!" Hermione glowered angrily, her masses of brown hair whipping behind her as she turned to glare at Ron.

As Ron and Hermione continued bickering, Harry's mind wandered away, looking across the lake where a group of serpentine emerald and silver clad students were discussing the same topic.

"She's a bit of a freak and did you see her robes?" Pansy Parkinson, a regally dark brunette sneered, her eyes flashing the green shade of her hair ribbons. Her sculpted face accentuated the haughty appearance of her features, her sloping nose and sharply curving chin.

"She looks as if she were dressed by the poor house. She's nearly bordering on the half-breed Lupin," Her friend, also dressed in similar green, tittered, tossing her stunning blonde locks. "At any rate, I don't see what the big deal about her is."

Pansy cast a long sideway glance, noticeably fluttering her dusky lashes as she simpered, "I know, Vessa. What do you think Draco?"

"Father hasn't heard of her at all," was his nonchalant response and Pansy pouted when he didn't offer any other comment denouncing the young Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. In fact, he seemed rather indifferent towards the subject, merely listening coolly.

"What about you Blaise?" Vessa's lips curved into a ruby-lipped smile, as if guarding a vicarious secret. "You can't really mean what you said about Professor Raven."

"Besides she can't possibly be from a pureblooded line," Pansy said vehemently, drawing Blaise Zabini's attention. "I know her kind."

"Oh?" He asked, his slanting eyes gleaming arrogantly. "How do you know?"

"There," Smiling triumphantly as she pointed across the lake, Pansy ultimately achieved her desired effect. Draco was looking in the direction of her finger and though his expression did not change, there was an overall change in his demeanor. Because on the other side of the water, was Raven, the Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor, being gathered into the arms of Harry Potter, the boy who lived. . .

The second week had started badly for Raven, formerly of the Teen Titans though now a bona fide Hogwarts professor.

After a particular incident involving a misfired spell and great misfortune, Raven found her entire class of second-years panicking as their Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher was seemingly on fire. Not that the flames did her any damage, considerably less than the carnage of her robes, already secondhand from McGonagall.

Indeed, the ill-fated, much talked about robes were sent to a fiery demise and Raven found herself dismissing the class to rummage for some uncharred clothes. Although Raven had not planned on wearing McGonagall hand-me-downs for the rest of the term, her shopping excursion in Hogsmeade had been scheduled for several days later.

Certainly before then she had planned on altering the Transfiguration professor's clothes, for she was significantly taller than the petite girl. True, while the clothes were slightly worn, Raven still had been extremely grateful when the older woman had donated them.

Hoping she had some spare robes left, Raven was most disappointed when she discovered to her displeasure that her closet was positively empty, as everything had been sent in for alterations. All that remained was an ancient gown from some fifty years ago.

Raven studied the miserable piece of scraggly velvet, once the fine material of a lustrous gown. At present, the black dress which belonged to an old Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, by the name of Galatea Merrythought, was her sole article of clothing. Perhaps nearly a half a century ago, the high collar of sleek satin and embroidered trailing sleeves were haute monde.

"Just my luck." Raven's mouth stiffened into a firm line and she glared morosely at the despised robes. Some forty minutes later, after she had given up with the dress, Raven opted to buy clothes from Hogsmeade. Unfortunately, she would have to wear the offending robes—and be mocked by everything breathing thing—along the way. The only safe route that minimized sniggering and commentary was to cut through the Forbidden Forrest that bordered the lake. Luckily, there were also several bushes where she could walk behind, away from the eyes of Pansy Parkinson and her fashion police.

And that was precisely where her troubles worsened tenfold.

Her trek to the lake was mostly clear with the minor exception of Colin Creevey and his camera. As she stealthily passed through the last stretch of bushes, Raven dimly recognized the voices of Harry Potter, Ronald Weasely, and Hermione Granger, before all became very quiet. Then quite suddenly, the silence was pierced by Hermione's sharp cry, "Harry watch out, she's right behind you, the spy for You-Know-Who!"

"Not that again—" Raven vaguely heard Ron groan before Hermione frantically found her wand, yelling, "Levicorpus!"

The hex took affect as Raven's feet were magically pulled from under her, dragging her out from the bush to face the three stunned Gryffindors.

Ron's eyes widened when he saw her, "Blimely, Hermione's right! She's trying to kill you Harry! She's trying to kill you!"

"Stop! What are you talking about?" Raven stared in shock at the assault, her mouth nearly hanging open at the red-haired boy. A group of third-years squealed, scurrying out of the way. Great, what a pretty picture she made, dangling by the ankle in ridiculously outdated witch garb.

"Expelliarmus!" Harry shouted impulsively, thrusting his hand into the insides of his robe in response to his lighting-fast reflexes. A jet of brilliant radiance gathered at the tip of his wand, then with immeasurable force shot towards her.

"I hate my job," Raven deadpanned as the light projectile sped forward. Her innate power materialized in the shape of an obsidian shield, reflecting the red beam. Yet the sheer force of the impact pushed her back nearly twenty feet, sending her plunging into the lake.

She screamed involuntarily, her shuddering lungs inhaling water and her purple hair billowing around her face. Everything seemed strangely luminescent underwater, submerged with an eerie yellowish glow amidst its depths. Next the world became itself again, strong arms yanking her above the surface and setting her gently alongside the grass.

"Bloody Hell, Harry, I can't believe you just attacked her! What were you thinking?" Ron rasped, his hand shaking slightly at the sight of their unmoving teacher. "We're going to be expelled. Mum is going to kill me."

"What do you mean? You're the one who said she was going to murder me!" Harry argued, gesturing furiously at Ron and Hermione as he worriedly looked at Raven's pale face. The young professor appeared to be so vulnerable, her delicate porcelain skin and streaming hair seeming deathlike as her body limply resting against the lawn.

"She's bleeding pretty badly. She must have cut herself when you dragged her from the water." Hermione murmured hoarsely, noticing the scratches along the young woman's arms and neck. "Harry, do you think she's alive?"

"Professor Raven?" He asked tentatively in a nervous and estranged voice as he scooped her surprisingly light body into his arms. "Professor Raven, can you hear me? We're taking you to see Madame Pomfrey right away."

"Don't bother." The empath snapped peevishly, her large azure eyes opening to overwhelm his watery green ones. Harry gazed back, strangely mesmerized by their deep sapphire color when she said, "Put me down. I'm perfectly capable of healing myself."

"We killed her, Harry! Oh my god, she's dead!" Ron was immobilized and started to hyperventilate, clutching his hair tightly in clenched fists. "What do we do? The Ministry's going to put all of us on trial. We'll be sent to Azkaban!"

"Stop that, you idiot." Raven stated crossly, glaring at Ron to shut up because he was giving her a headache. "I'm not dead you know."

"Please, Professor. We should return to the castle, I'm sure we can get help once we find a teacher," Hermione began, her concern temporarily overwhelming her suspicions.

"I don't need to go to the infirmary," Raven countered obstinately, wriggling herself free from Harry's arms. Her figure became enshrouded in shimmering blue light, her instinctive abilities mending the small cuts she received in the lake. "But please, enlighten me as to why I was blasted into the lake."

Hermione hurriedly explained, noting the tinge of sarcasm. "Professor, I'm terribly sorry. You startled us so and—"

"You were expecting to be attacked?" She asked, raising a slender inky brow, She piled her hair into a makeshift bun, which dripped and trickled in pools of purple, forming loose ringlets. Her sodden robes were undeniably ruined, the black velvet train dragging behind in mud. "By the way, Harry, your disarming spell is lacking. Had you performed it correctly, it should have penetrated my defenses."

And then, Raven promptly fainted, falling back into Harry's arms just in time as Draco Malfoy, Blaise Zabini, Pansy Parkinson, and her friend Vessa approached.

AN: Bushels of chocolate and poptarts to my reviewers! Though, as to the pairing, I'm not sure yet. . . I'll experiment and get back to you on that.


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